


Hands Off

by spnsmile



Series: Destiel Prompt August Collection 2020 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angry Castiel (Supernatural), Bus, Castiel and Dean Winchester First Meet, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Falling In Love, Feels, First Meetings, Fluff, Frustrated Dean Winchester, Groping, Love at First Sight, M/M, Non-Consensual Groping, Overprotective Castiel (Supernatural), Possessive Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protectiveness, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Soulmates, Soulmates Castiel & Dean Winchester, True Love, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnsmile/pseuds/spnsmile
Summary: In a world where people can identify their soulmate through touch— one so scorching that leaves a mark on one's skin,  it’s common that people don’t take touch for granted. Dean Winchester has waited all his life, his anticipation fruitless for decades when all he wants is to be loved.Then one packed bus, a pervert behind, and the most gorgeous man with deep blue eyes.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel Prompt August Collection 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860856
Comments: 17
Kudos: 308
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	Hands Off

**Author's Note:**

> writer's month day 5 prompt: SOULMATES
> 
> better late than never ^^ also trigger warning for perverts in crowded places >_<

In a world where people can identify their soulmate through touch— one so scorching that leaves a mark on one's skin, it’s common that people don’t take touch for granted. One handshake can change a person’s life, one finger brush can mean eternity, and one too many touches that reveal nothing can be disheartening, especially those who seek to be loved the most. 

Dean Winchester hasn’t been lucky in that respect. Since he was a kid, he was exposed to his parents’ grand meeting (probably hyped by his overly romantic father still trying to impress his mother at that time before she died in a fire and things got rough), but that gave Dean some delusions about his one true love who can make things better, just like how his mother made it better for his father while alive. Dean doesn't say it, but he hates the way his father has turned into someone cold and callous, barely recognized his sons. He understands it's because he was robbed of love, it's always been the root of everything. Dean doesn't want to be like that, or at least before he turns to one like his father, at least someone could show him...

He watched people he knows fall in love in the street, the cafe house, the library, even at his favorite band's concert. He watches them in their moment where time seemed to stop and everything just turned all bright and colors like they fit, like their pieces of jagged puzzles just meant to be together.

Dean envies that, Dean wants that with all his heart, he's ready to give it to anyone who'd take him. Except for the love of his life is taking his time showing up.

It's hard not to get discouraged whenever he hooks up with someone who doesn’t ignite the phenomenal heat in the body no matter how much they touch, almost always ending with one leaving or drinking then leaving first. It’s a cycle and Dean wonders if his soul mate is still out there. It’s been twenty-seven years and still nothing. Sam even found his first and yeah Dean’s happy for him but deep inside Sam finding Eileen only leaves Dean more alone than he already is… until that _bus ride._

Dean hates bus riding or anything that involves getting into crowded places that just make him feel trapped, but when his brother borrowed the impala to impress his girl and Dean agreed? He should’ve heeded the warning and realized that day was going to be strange. Sam called to tell him the car broke down somewhere and now he needs to be there before his brother gets it towed which means the transit Main Street max ride.

_“Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet your soul mate there?”_

“Shut up, this isn't happy hour, it's peak hour of passengers, Sammy! This is me _Fast and Furious_ running towards you.” Dean rolled his eyes when he heard Sam chuckling on the phone and that’s how he found himself waiting for a bus outside that bright afternoon with five other people who all looked like they could get on with their lives without talking with anyone. Shame he can do the same.

He stood there impatiently for some time before the scheduled bus delayed by five minutes along with red lights finally arrives. It’s not as crowded as he thought but there are no more passenger seats available so standing near the middle, he takes a vacant spot between two benches and hooks one hand over the metal railing and silently watches the city go in a blur.

Five minutes to the ride, the unexpected happens. The next station is crowded, full of people in a hurry to get a ride that before he registers what’s happening, he’s already getting pushed forward and back, squeezed around shoulders until he's sandwiched between bodies. He's tall, but so is everyone else. Dean tried to keep on his feet while the bus surges to and fro but there’s not even a room to drop because the bus is jam-packed from all corners.

Hissing and planning to murder his brother later, Dean notices the person standing cooly in front of him, cornered behind a single seat, and the metal railing next to it. Dean stares with his breath robbed. Before him standing sideways, shoulder almost next to Dean’s chin is a very handsome guy.

The guy is an inch shorter than him, wearing a tan trench coat and suit underneath like some holy tax accountant. He has the blackest, untidiest hair (was that the wind or he simply styles it that way?), but this isn't what struck Dean. _Holy hell_ , the man's hot in all angles — with a too prominent jaw, strong nose, high cheekbones on ends— he’s so pretty Dean doesn’t even know how he exists—or if the guy is foreign because he looked a lot those Russian spies around the ’70s. A very pretty spy.

The guy doesn’t notice him, nor does he notice the crowd. He is too absorbed with the material he is reading making Dean almost wish he's a paperback— is it Dictionary? Language translations? Is he really foreign? Dean itches to know, almost shamelessly craning his neck, but there’s a space between them Dean has the decency to leave for the man’s elbow room, and as crazy as it is, Dean doesn't want to touch him even when half of him wants to do it out of the spur of the moment. No, he's raised his hope enough and got disappointed enough. The man doesn't notice him and Dean knows it's rude, but he’s so mesmerized by the person he didn't realize someone moving behind him. He only jolts in surprise when someone actually cups his ass. 

It's a brush at first like arm accidentally grazing his behind. Dean doesn't think much of it until the third and fourth time, then someone presses hard behind him. Startled, Dean glances behind him but couldn’t see whoever it was the way the bus jammed off spaces he can’t even move his head without bumping his nose to an extended arm holding the racks above— but when he feels a hand actually palming his ass again, he couldn't help the curse that escaped his lips. Things run in his mind—is he going to give warning? Is he going to punch first ask later? Is this going to take more time than it's worth if the guy is sent in jail? Is he going to cause people problems and delays if he goes amok? But the hand on his ass won’t stop cupping a feel no matter how hard he tries to shake it away. 

Frustrated, Dean jerks backward but his movement is limited. There are the hips pressing behind him again—

“You damn—” he begins with a sharp glance behind him when—

“Are you okay?”

Dean stares up at the sound of rich, gravelly voice filled with concern and sees a breathtaking pair of the deepest, bluest eyes of the prettiest man he’s ever seen watching him curiously. At that moment a ping rings in his ears and Dean blinks with face red. Man, the guy can fuck his soul now but Dean's so embarrassed and angry at the same time no words came out of his mouth. He's certainly not going to let this guy see him getting molested— not him!

He shakes his head nervously unable to take his eyes off the blue-eyed stranger who squints at him like he doesn't know how that makes people feel. Dean swallows hard, light-headed, heart heavy, attraction definitely bullseye.

Seconds pass and after what felt like light-years, the guy finally nods and looks away to read his book again.

Dean’s heart is racing. Behind him, the cup a feel doesn't stop. He clamps down his teeth and swears he’s going to head butt the friggin asshole trying to get off him when something burned hot on his shoulder. Dean gasps and shoots a glance in front of him again and there finds the pretty man in the tax-accountant-spy-trench-coat has reached and grasped his right shoulder.

"You don't look okay, your eyes—" he reaches for Dean's cheek, thumb brushing the corner of Dean's wet eyes. It happened like molten lava. Their eyes meet and widen as it struck them both to recognize the burning sensation spreading like wildfire in their bodies, lighting matches in their soul. Soulmate. His soulmate.

Dean's mouth drops at his soulmate, somehow, out of nowhere, is right here in a contained space with him like the universe meant him to be there. Someone who belonged to him and whom he belonged to with deep blue eyes now as wide as saucers staring back at him, speechless with plush lips parted a little in surprise.

But Dean’s surprise is nothing in comparison when his nasty groper tries to slide a knee between his leg.

“Dammit!” he hisses, remembering the awful shit situation, elbowing the guy behind him to keep his distance, when he gets pulled by strong hands without any warning. 

Dean lands on his soulmate’s hard body, solid and existing. Protective arms wrap around the lower of his back while his body spikes up with rising temperatures at the constant touches of their skin, forehead, neck, hands. He gets gripped tight around the shoulder. His soulmate gives a death glare to whoever was his assaulter but Dean couldn't give a damn as he stares open-mouthed at the gorgeous man dropped by heavens straight to his arms. A guy a little shorter than he is, but with an explosive glare at his disposal that can make any armies retreat. 

"Hands off or I will throw you in hell. This one is mine." his voice is on edge, deep and savory.

The world stops. There's only him and his holy tax accountant savior of the day.

The crowd dispenses once the bus stops. Dean doesn’t know what happened to the guy who got handsy behind, too preoccupied with his new interesting subject who doesn't seem eager to let go even when multiple spaces open up around them.

"I could handle him, you know..." he says, quite petulant that they have to meet this way. Dammit, when Dean's all-time record in high school includes all the kind of fistfights, here he is, turned into a puddle. Blue eyes gaze down at him, sharpness losing gently turning into tender and loving.

"Of course. I just want to claim you properly."

Dean swears he can make proper sounds than the sigh that came out of his mouth.

There comes another wave of the crowd yet Dean is no longer worried. His soulmate's body secures him in a cornered space behind a chair, arm extended to the bus wall, keeping Dean from other people. It’s too crowded but Dean doesn’t mind any space lost, doesn't shy away putting a hand on his soulmate's hips when he gets pushed closer by the crowd. But one thing for sure, he doesn't want the ride to end. Well, he hasn't missed his stop yet so...

He doesn’t remember how long they’ve been standing there but soon they are sitting together and talking.

So his name is Castiel, a big foreign name. He’ll call him Cas as an endearment. Castiel sure looks like a keeper, look so in love with him too the way Dean can see it lies deep in his blue eyes that are windows to his soul. 

His _soulmate._

“What’s your name, beautiful?” Cas whispers leaning a little closer to Dean’s shoulder.

Dean blinks because hell, they’ve been holding hands the entire ride and romancing each other's eyes and he hasn’t given Cas his name let alone his number, address, blood type, zodiac sign like some crazy person?

“Dean… Dean.” He repeats, swallowing as he sees a sparkle behind the blues inching closer. 

_“Dean_ ," Cas says it with gravity, leaning closer, self-control out of the game. Dean follows his every graceful move until Castiel smiles, rippingDean's already swelling heart. "I like that name.“Hello, Dean.”

It's Dean who catches Cas lips, leaning forward the way he did. Lips brushing, deepening with everything else burning and steaming... that must be how real lava feels like, must've love feels like, Dean thinks with a satisfied sigh. 


End file.
